


Drawn Together

by mizface



Category: due South
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-23
Updated: 2011-07-23
Packaged: 2017-10-21 16:19:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/227172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mizface/pseuds/mizface
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Author’s notes: This is one of those rare stories that I actually outlined and plotted out before writing.  And then it wasn’t working, so I totally rearranged what I had on the fly and went where the Muse led me.  Proper preparation mocks me!</p><p>I have two major thanks to send out as well.  First, waltzforanight for a <b>fabulous</b> beta job, including pre-beta cheerleading (her pom poms have to be seen to be believed.)  Second, to the ficfinishing comm on LJ, because without them, this would still be in WP limbo.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Drawn Together

**Author's Note:**

> Author’s notes: This is one of those rare stories that I actually outlined and plotted out before writing. And then it wasn’t working, so I totally rearranged what I had on the fly and went where the Muse led me. Proper preparation mocks me!
> 
> I have two major thanks to send out as well. First, waltzforanight for a **fabulous** beta job, including pre-beta cheerleading (her pom poms have to be seen to be believed.) Second, to the ficfinishing comm on LJ, because without them, this would still be in WP limbo.

Don’t know much about art, but these are pretty good, Ray thought. As he walked through the exhibit, Ray studied each picture, trying to see what it was that had caught Fraser’s eye enough for him to want to come, or for him to ask Ray along. Black and whites, mostly, pencil, charcoal, that kind of thing. Lots of movement in them, lots of life, which he appreciated. Ray had never understood the need for still life. Still anything, for that matter.

A turn took him to some that were more posed now – classic nudie stuff, nice though. Still had that feel of a living thing, blood and bone, not just a body objectified. Ooh, he’d have to remember that sentence when Fraser caught up.

He kept moving to wherever his eye was drawn. Tried to keep out of the way for the crowd – lots of people here for what the sign said was a student show, not that he’d ever been to one. Of course, most of them looked like students themselves, and judging from the way they hovered by the snack table, the term “starving artist” maybe wasn’t far off the joke. But some seemed genuinely interested, so he tried to make sure not to block the view.

Some with more scenery now. Park, dog running – huh, something familiar about it, but he couldn’t quite place it. Kids playing, more sketchy stuff, really caught the feeling of movement. Hey, one of the Consulate! And Fraser standing guard. No wonder he wanted to come – he **knew** this girl. Ray tried to remember if he’d said anything about her, but the name didn’t click. He moved up for a closer look. Wow. It wasn’t a close view or anything, but she’d still managed to catch him good. All stone still, but wanting to move – you could almost feel it through the paper. Like Fraser was a fly caught in duty’s web. He wondered if any of these were for sale, but didn’t know who or how to ask. And he definitely didn’t want to with Fraser there – wanting to buy a picture of Fraser meant explaining all sorts of things he was in no way wanting to talk about.

Feeling self-conscious suddenly, he moved on, barely looking at the rest of the wall of art. Ray turned another corner, looking for his friend, then stopped. And stared. And moved slowly toward the picture that had captured his attention.

It was Fraser. No, it was _Ben_. Portrait in motion, kind of. Not posed, or sat for, or whatever the arty term was. Just Ben, caught in thought. But it wasn’t just the fact that it was Ben that had stopped him in his tracks. It was the look on his face. Wistful, longing, wanting… none of the words were enough to describe what he was seeing. It caught his breath in his throat, made his mouth go dry, and he felt like he should look away, like he was seeing too much, something too private, but he couldn’t stop looking.

He knew that look, hell, he’d _lived_ that look most of his life. It had hit his face the minute he’d first seen Stella, stayed there until they got married, come back when they’d gotten divorced. He’d tried to dodge it when he’d slipped into Vecchio’s life, but it had gotten worse. He hadn’t counted on seeing so much of Stella, so it hit him pretty hard at first. Over time it’d gotten easier, to the point where he could look at her like a normal guy again, no agenda. It had been nice.

Ray couldn’t remember when that feeling started again, but he knew full well why he felt it. He’d thought he was keeping his friendship with Fraser casual, but he’d been fooling himself. He’d known the potential was there from the moment in the crypt, and if that hadn’t been enough, Fraser had been the first person, no, the _only_ person he’d thought of when Cahill tried to frame him. The whole being in Canada thing hadn’t even occurred to him; he just knew Fraser would help. Which clued him in big time that he’d failed at the whole keep your distance idea.

He’d tamped it down as best he could, but yeah, he knew that look. It was a look of wanting something you could never have, of knowing what you wanted was _there_ but just out of reach.

He ‘d gotten used to seeing that look every day in the mirror. But he’d never seen it on Fraser’s face, in all the time he’d known him. How the hell had whoever this artist was managed to see something he hadn’t?

“That’s a favorite of mine.” He nearly jumped out of his skin – hadn’t even heard the girl come up. _Young woman, Ray,_ he could almost hear Fraser correct.

Ray turned toward her and shrugged, trying to play off both the jump and the fact that he’d lost himself in the drawing. “S’nice. Not that I know anything about art, you understand.”

“I don’t know art, but I know what I like.” She grinned. “That’s all you need to know. Art is totally subjective – no right or wrong. If you like it, you do. If not, you don’t. The only ones who have to come up with why are teachers and critics.”

Huh, interesting attitude. Must be a student – she had the look, similar to the group of kids he’d seen chowing down. A little dressier, and her hair was all in colors nature intended, though he’d bet she was no more a true blond than Ray himself. Nice enough looking, but there was a tension in her stance he couldn’t figure. “So all art is good?”

“ **God** no. Some of it’s total crap.” She shuddered and shook her head. “But again, one man’s trash…”

He laughed, liking this girl’s matter of factness. “Ray Vecchio,” he said, holding out a hand.

She took it, her grasp firm, and smiled back at him. “Cassidy Wallace. Thanks for coming to see my stuff. Especially since you don’t know art and all,” she teased.

This was her stuff? Explained the vibe she gave off – nervousness he understood, and it made him real glad he hadn’t trashed any of it. Not that he wanted to. “True enough, but this stuff is real nice. Lots of, mmm, energy, I guess.”

Her smile widened. “Thank you. That’s a real compliment.” She meant it, too, he could tell. “I try to make the page reflect what I see, and since everything has its own energy, that’s what I try to convey. Hard to do sometimes, but worth it when it happens.”

His eye was drawn back to the picture of Ben, and she nodded. “Like I said, a favorite of mine. Hard as energy is to get sometimes, emotion, the really subtle stuff, is even harder. Portraits are dime a dozen, but getting a moment on paper…”

“Yeah, it’s real, uhm, nice.” Sheesh, how lame was that? “You really put a lot in it, I mean. Real deep.”

“He’s a deep man. Thank you.” Again, no sense of anything other than honesty from her, genuine gratitude that he liked her work.

Ray was going to leave it at that, but couldn’t help himself. “You know him well? I mean, it doesn’t look like he’s one of your artist models. Not that he isn’t good looking enough, I mean, hey, look at him, it’s just…” He trailed off, not wanting to get any deeper. Talk much, Kowalski?

She smiled gently. “I get it, and you’re right, he isn’t a model. Should be, looking like that, but no. He’s a friend. And he hasn’t seen this, so I hope he shares your appreciation for it.”

“He doesn’t know you drew him?” Interesting.

She blushed, and grinned in an ‘uh-oh, just got caught’ kind of way. “He knows, sort of. I mean, he saw it partly done. I just didn’t have a chance to show him before the opening. His schedule is pretty hectic sometimes.”

Ray nodded – hectic was an understatement lately. Not that _she_ knew _he_ knew, but, still.

She looked past him briefly, focus changed, and waved. “Hey, I hate to cut this short, but –“

“But this is your show, and you’ve got a million people you should be talking to instead of me. No problem.” Ray smiled to take any bite from the words.

“Believe me, I’d much rather be talking with you, but duty calls.” Not flirting, but then, she was pretty young. “Thanks again for coming, Mr. Vecchio.”

“You’re welcome. And it’s Ray.”

“Ray then. And I’m Cass. Enjoy the rest of the show.”

Ray stayed where he was as Cassidy moved on, not ready to leave the picture just yet. He wished he knew what it was Ben had been thinking about when she’d drawn it. The hopeless romantic in him tried to say it was him, but as always when it came to Benton Fraser, his practical side won out, shouting down any fleeting hope with a loud “He’s straight – get **over** it already!”

He hated that voice.

Ray felt someone’s eyes on him, and a sneaky look told him he’d been found, that Fraser was on his way over. Not ready to be caught by the picture, he pretended not to see his friend, and walked back toward wall with the Consulate drawing, and the one he now easily recognized as Dief.

He stopped there to let Fraser catch up to him, feeling much safer in front of these pieces.

“Ah, there you are, Ray. What do you think?”

“Nice stuff, I guess. Not that I know about art, but nice.”

“I don’t believe one has to actually know anything about art to form an opinion, Ray. It’s an extremely subjective experience.”

“I don’t know art, but I know what I like, you mean?” he quoted.

“Exactly!” The pleased look on Fraser’s face made Ray glad he’d said it. Gladder than he should be maybe, but there it was. And it made him want to keep the conversation going, keep Fraser happy.

“But sometimes it helps if you know more about it, yeah? I mean, like, knowing the subject matter can make a difference.”

“Certainly it can, Ray, though I believe in some cases it can actually lessen the appreciation.” As expected, Fraser warmed right up to the topic. “For example, Pablo Picasso had quite a misogynistic view, and it suffused his art. Those not knowing it could appreciate him on one level, on technique, composition, and so on. But for some that knowledge has had a negative impact on appreciation of his work, as many portraits he did of women had them sleeping, as he felt they had nothing of value to say other than as objects.”

“Huh. Did not know that. But I wasn’t thinking about Picasso anyhow. I was more thinking about this piece right here.” He pointed to the drawing of Fraser on duty. “And wondering if maybe there was something about the subject matter that I’d appreciate more than the average Joe.”

Fraser looked at the picture in question and blushed slightly. “Er, yes, I do see what you mean, Ray. And you’re correct, of course – that is me.”

“I figured that, Frase – detective and all,” he smiled, his tone teasing. “What I don’t get is why you didn’t tell me you knew this chick?”

Fraser looked confused. “I believe I did say I knew the _young woman_ when I asked you to accompany me tonight.”

Ha! He knew Fraser wouldn’t let that pass. “You said you knew her, yeah, but not that you _knew_ her. I thought you meant she was someone you’d heard of.”

“I didn’t mean to mislead you, Ray. I had no idea I’d been unclear.” He paused a moment, then went on. “Does it bother you that I know the artist?”

Yes, Ray wanted to say. It bothers me that you know _anyone_ well enough for them to draw what she did. Why she could see something in you that I couldn’t. But he couldn’t say that, especially since Fraser would have no idea what he was talking about.

So he shook his head, and kept his tone lighter than he felt. “Nah, not really. Just surprised me, is all.”

“Hmm. I was sure I had told you about her. We met when I was stopping a purse snatching, about five months ago.”

Ray thought back. “That’s sort of ringing a bell, I think.”

“Yes, well, it was an interesting way to meet…”

> "Hey hey HEY!!" was all the warning Fraser had. He started to turn, and in doing so managed to get tangled in a young man trying to run past him. The young man dropped something in his haste to get up and keep moving, and was off before Fraser knew what hit him.
> 
> He bent over to pick up what turned out to be a rather heavy bag, and was looking to see if he could spot which way the teenager had gone, when he once again heard the voice that had started this in the first place. "Hey, that's mine!" Changing the direction of his gaze, Fraser saw a young woman running toward him, one arm clutching a notebook to her, the other outstretched toward him. No, toward the bag he'd stopped the young man from taking.
> 
> She stopped abruptly in front of him, and he held the bag out to her. "I take it this is yours, miss?" he asked, fully expecting her to grab it roughly and somehow blame him for it being taken in the first place. He sighed inwardly at that; he'd been in Chicago too long, if that was his attitude.
> 
> She surprised him by taking the bag carefully, and without much effort despite its weight, then pulling the strap over one shoulder, a smile lighting her face.
> 
> "Thanks so much!" she said. "You have NO idea how much losing this would have set me back." He looked again at the bag in wonder. What she said would indicate that the bag had some great worth; if so, it was in no way readily apparent. While large and sturdy, it bore no label or other outward trapping that would suggest it was expensive. Indeed, it looked rather worn, faded in places, and colorfully stained in others. Well used.
> 
> "Ah, well, glad to be of service," he finally replied. "Though I really can't take any particular credit for its retrieval. The young man who apparently took your bag wasn't watching where he was running, so that when I stopped at your shout we collided. He dropped your bag, and decided, I think, that perhaps it wasn't possible to both retrieve it and escape."
> 
> She grinned at that. "I'll bet not. This sucker takes some getting used to – it isn't for lightweights."
> 
> "I had noticed its bulk," he agreed.
> 
> "Still, I wonder if he had time to –" she stopped and opened the bag, sliding the notebook in easily as she rifled through pockets, pushing aside papers, books, an assortment of writing utensils, and what looked like putty knives in the process. "All right – score one for chaos girl!" She crowed, and pumped a fist in the air. At his confused look, she went on. "He never found my wallet in all the mess."
> 
> Chaos girl. That did seem to describe the young woman well. Fraser watched as she continued to go through the bag. Mid- to late twenties, a bit taller than average, a shock of near shoulder-length honey-blond hair that was at least as "experimental" as his friend Ray's. Headphones wrapped around her neck, connecting to a Walkman clipped to her belt, and he could hear very faintly something very percussive coming from them – they must have slid off her ears in her dash for her bag.
> 
> A loose t-shirt, baggy, well-worn jeans, similarly stained as the bag, and equally worn tennis shoes completed the image.
> 
> He felt her gaze, and realized she was watching him. A blush rose as he thought about how she might mistakenly take his attention.
> 
> "Is everything there, then?" he asked.
> 
> "Yep. Not a thing missing, and good thing for him, or I would have hunted him down. There's some irreplaceable stuff in here." She stopped, cocked her head in thought, and went on. “I really do owe you one Mr…"
> 
> Oh dear, how rude of him. Fraser took off his Stetson, and inclined his head. "Constable Benton Fraser, ma'am. Royal Canadian Mounted Police."
> 
> "A Mountie! Cool – I was wondering about the uniform. Cassidy Wallace." Her grin got wider. "No official title or affiliation, though a lot of people think I'm either a freak or a geek. Or both." Her tone held no rancor at those words. In fact, there seemed to be a note of pride in her voice.
> 
> "Pleased to meet you, Miss Wallace. I’m glad I was able to help you."
> 
> "So am I, Constable." She shifted, looked at her watch, and stiffened. "Argh! And I'm gonna be late if I don't run and now! Listen, I meant what I said. Whether you meant to stop that guy or not, you really did help me out. I owe you one."
> 
> "Totally unnecessary, I assure you. Just doing my duty."
> 
> "And I don't have time to argue that, or I would. So thanks, and I'll have to find a way some other time to thank you proper." She turned to go, then paused. "I mean that. And you don't have time to argue back either."
> 
> Then she was off, calling back with a wave, "Nice to meet you, Constable! Sorry I have to run!"
> 
> Fraser lifted a hand in return, a bemused half-smile on his face as he watched her dodge through passersby, keep her bag from knocking anyone over as she ran, and put her headphones back on all at once.
> 
> You met the most interesting people in this town.

“That was her?” Ray asked. “I remember you coming into the station after that, all fired up about trying to find the guy in the mug shots. No luck though.”

“No. It was disappointing, but in a way I was glad not to have found him there.” Ray rolled his eyes.

“He _was_ rather young, Ray. I hoped that perhaps it was a first attempt, and that it went badly enough to discourage him from trying it again.”

“Only you would think _not_ finding a perp was a good thing, Fraser.” He stopped a minute, then turned back to his friend as another thought struck him.

“So how did she track you down again? No wait, stupid question – the uniform. Had to be the uniform.”

“Yes it was. Though I must confess that I didn’t know she’d searched me out until after the fact. “

> 34 more minutes. Then his shift would be done, and he could stop “playing Mountie statue,” as Ray called it, penance done for whatever slight Inspector Thatcher imagined he'd committed this time. Uncharitable, that thought, but it rang true. And so he stared ahead, stock still, and counted down the minutes.
> 
> At least there's a breeze, he thought, making the day seem a bit cooler, more tolerable. And there hadn't been too many gawkers this time, and no hecklers, unless one counted the laughing cries of birds perched nearby, seemingly taunting him with their freedom.
> 
> 31 minutes. 28. 25. And then he felt it. Eyes upon him, watching with intent. Unmistakable, and the urge to look around, discover the source of that feeling, was nearly overwhelming. He did his best to look without moving, quick glances, changing direction as he blinked to make the search less obvious, but it was fruitless. Still, that sense of being watched remained, an itch he couldn't scratch, a fly he couldn't swat. Annoying, he realized, but not malicious, if his instincts were to be trusted. And really, if someone were watching him with less than honorable purposes, they'd had plenty of time to try something; he'd been here for hours. So there was nothing to do but stay at his post, and hope his instincts were right.
> 
> 15 minutes. 11. 8. The feeling of being watched changed suddenly, faded but didn’t completely dissipate. Movement now, seen out of the corner of his eye. Someone was coming toward him, their gait casual, non-threatening. The person stopped a few feet away, careful not to intrude on Fraser's personal space. Odd, as their scrutiny had felt nothing **but** personal before.
> 
> "Constable Fraser, hello." The watcher was female. He knew that voice, but from where? "I know, you can't respond, I get that, don't worry. Just wanted to stop by and thank you again for your help the other day." She moved into his line of sight, and recognition was immediate. Cassidy Wallace, the young lady from the aborted purse snatching the week prior.
> 
> Something must have shown in his face, despite his best efforts not to respond. "Great, you do remember. Wasn't sure if maybe that was such an everyday thing that we all blurred together for you. Anyhow, I was hoping to chat, but I have to go, so maybe another time. Just thought it would be rude to stop but not say anything." She grinned. "Since I'm allowed and all. Hope you're off duty soon!" And she hurried off across the street, half running, the seemingly ever-present bag over her shoulder.
> 
> How very odd. If she had been watching him all that time, why wait to say anything? And why did her scrutiny seem so… intense? Fraser inwardly cursed, knowing that by the time 4 minutes had passed, she'd be long gone, and his questions would remain unanswered.

Ray pointed to the first picture he’d found of Fraser – the one with him on guard duty. “So that’s when she drew this one, right?”

“Correct, Ray. Though I didn’t realize that’s what she had been doing until she came by a few days later.”

> Fraser walked out the doors of the Consulate and tilted his head back, closing his eyes and just basking in the loveliness of the day, and being out of doors. Weather like this made the seemingly endless paperwork even drearier, and he was glad to be done for the day. A nudge from Diefenbaker shook him from his reverie, and he followed his companion down the steps.
> 
> They were both quite glad to be outside, it seemed. Dief loped ahead, and Fraser started to quicken his pace to catch up. He neared the end of the block to find Dief sitting near someone, being petted briskly in a way he obviously enjoyed, tongue lolling and tail wagging.
> 
> The woman looked up at his approach, and he was surprised to see that it was Cassidy Wallace. Oh dear. She’d said she’d be back, but he hadn’t given it a thought. Hopefully it was just a coincidence – another misguided woman was the last thing he needed.
> 
> "Miss Wallace," he called as he approached.
> 
> She smiled and stood, still petting Dief. "Hey, Constable. Good to see you. Is this your dog?"
> 
> "Half-wolf, actually. And yes, he came to Chicago with me.”

Ray held up a hand to interrupt, leaning in so as not to be overheard. “Fraser, you know you’ve gotta quit telling people that Dief’s part wolf. Somebody you tell is gonna end up freaking out, and then fake permit from Vecchio or not, he’s gonna get locked up.” He straightened up and looked past Fraser to where Cassidy was talking with a group of students. “Though I have to admit, she doesn’t look like the freak-and-run type.”

“She isn’t. Cassidy took the reality of Diefenbaker’s heritage quite well, actually. And you know I have to tell people he’s half-wolf, Ray. If I don’t, he’s impossible to live with.”

Ray grinned. “Yeah I know - pay and pay and pay. I just don’t want to see the mutt in trouble.”

“Thank you kindly for that,” Fraser replied. “As it was, he was already upset with me for not introducing him sooner…”

> Dief’s chastising woof elicited a glare from Fraser, but he introduced him nonetheless.
> 
> "Ah, yes. Cassidy Wallace, this is Diefenbaker. Dief, this is Miss Wallace, the young woman I told you about a few weeks ago.” Another short bark. "Yes, by the Art Institute."
> 
> "He understands you?" Surprisingly, her tone held no mockery, just genuine interest.
> 
> "Reads lips – he's deaf. But yes, he and I have an understanding."
> 
> Her smile at that was real, with no meanness apparent. "Nice to know I don't have the oddball market cornered." She turned and knelt again, holding out her hand. "Very nice to officially meet you, Diefenbaker. Your buddy here really saved my skin the other day."
> 
> Dief responded with a very polite sniff and hand lick. Well, that was interesting.
> 
> Fraser hated to ask, but... "Were you trying to locate me?"
> 
> "Not really." Cassidy paused, as if she were deciding just what she should say next. "I would make a joke about returning to the scene of the crime, but I'm betting that's not funny to any cop, whether they're in their jurisdiction or not, am I right?"
> 
> "Not the most humorous thing to say, I agree. But it is curious."
> 
> "And not really accurate, since there wasn’t any crime. It's just," she sighed and stood. "It's more like I'm looking for something I've lost, I guess." She combed a hand through already unruly hair as she spoke.
> 
> Lost items – that he could help with. "Is there something I can do? Perhaps if you described the item to me, I could help."
> 
> She gave a rueful grin and shook her head. "Thanks, but I don’t think you can help. It's not a **thing** I've lost. It's… it's hard to describe. I've been off my game for the last week or so, and here was the last place I really felt on, so I came back hoping to catch that spark again."
> 
> "I'm afraid I don't follow."
> 
> "What, despite that stellar description?" she laughed. "Sorry. It's just… never mind, I don't mean to take your time. I'm sure you have better things to do."

Fraser stopped as Ray rolled his eyes. “Did I say something you find hard to believe?”

Ray shook his head. “Come on, Fraser. You weren’t buying that “Oh don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine” line, were you? Chicks use that all the time to reel guys in.” At Fraser’s blank look he went on. “She was totally looking for _you_ , doof.”

Fraser shook his head in disagreement. “You’re wrong about that Ray, which you’d know if you hadn’t interrupted.”

Ray held up his hands in mock surrender. “Okay, okay, so I’m wrong. So what happened next?”

> “I'm sure you have better things to do." Cassidy said.
> 
> Under normal circumstances, Fraser would have taken that out and run with it; his normal curiosity and desire to help was so often misconstrued as interest of a more personal nature. But there was something about this young woman, something he couldn’t put a finger on. So he took a chance. "At the moment, no. And it isn't any trouble. I'd like to help, if I can."
> 
> The look she gave him at that was appraising, thoughtful. "Okay." She nodded. "Okay. But it's easier to show than tell – words aren't my forte, if you hadn't noticed." She gave a deprecating smile at that. "You hungry? Thirsty, maybe? I saw a diner about a block from here. We could sit, and I could show you what I'm talking about."
> 
> While Fraser would never say he was the best at reading people, especially, it seemed, women, in Cassidy he had no sense of ulterior motive. Or, strangely enough, no nervous energy, not like his usual encounters with the opposite sex.
> 
> "I know the one. They even make allowances for Diefenbaker, provided he behaves.”
> 
> And with that, they were off to diner. Coffee for her, and tea for him. Fraser shot a sharp look at Dief when he complained about the utter lack of food, but didn’t say anything.
> 
> Once their order was taken, Cassidy settled in, leaning forward, elbows on the table. "Okay, so here's the thing. I'm an artist, or studying to be at least. Grad program at Columbia. Drawing is my strength, only lately it doesn't feel so strong.”
> 
> "And the last place it did was near the Consulate?" he guessed.
> 
> "Nope, not near. At the Consulate." Something about that statement brought a faint blush to her cheeks. "I went by there the other day to say thanks again, as you know, saw you standing there, and couldn't resist. I did a couple of quick sketches, rough but really nice, felt good, easy, in the groove, you know? Only since then, I've slipped that groove. I've had it happen before, and it frustrates the bejeezus out of me."
> 
> Cassidy reached back into her bag and pulled out a notebook. "Here, let me show you." She quickly flipped through several pages, sketches of different places, some he recognized. A few included people. All were quite good, and he told her as much.
> 
> "Thanks, but they're crap.” She waved a hand toward them dismissively. “I mean, yeah, look, it's a building, look, it's a guy on a bench, but there’s nothing special about them."
> 
> 'Nonsense. It takes skill and a good eye –"
> 
> "Which anyone can be trained to have." she interrupted.
> 
> Fraser gave a small nod to concede the point. His own meager drawing skills were proof of that. "I'm afraid I still don't see the trouble."
> 
> "Here." She turned back a few pages, then turned the book back around for him to see.
> 
> It was him, standing in front of the Consulate. It wasn't fancy, just a pencil sketch like the others, but it had captured him quite well. Despite the fact that he was standing stiffly at attention, there was a feeling of anticipation in it, of movement just under the surface, tension that he hadn't realized could be seen, for it most certainly was there. Remarkable.
> 
> "I had wondered why I felt like I was being watched that day."
> 
> That faint blush again. "Sorry. Like I said, I couldn’t resist. Not often you get such a good model outside of class." He was relieved to hear no innuendo at all in the tone, just a statement of fact.
> 
> "You captured the moment amazingly well," he went on.
> 
> "Unlike the others," she countered.
> 
> Looking at it, he had to admit that she was right. There was a vitality to this that the others just didn't have.

“Okay, I know I’m interrupting again here, but this time no teasing.” Ray rubbed the back of his neck, then went on. “It’s just, she really did get you on paper here. Caught my eye right away, how alive it looks.”

Fraser nodded. “She’s very talented, Ray.”

“I know, I see that. And I even had a thing I thought of about this, something about how real you look, like more than pencil lines, like there’s a body there, like you could almost reach out and feel flesh instead of paper…” Ray stopped and looked down. “It sounded better in my head, but it’s gone now.”

Fraser was silent for a moment. When he responded, he was looking at the sketch, not Ray. “I think you put it very well.”

> Fraser nodded in understanding, and Cassidy went on. "So that's why I came by, believe it or not. I'm not stalking you or anything. Just frustrated and…"
> 
> "And retracing your creative steps, as it were. Does that work?"
> 
> She shrugged. "Worth a try. If nothing else, it feels like I'm doing something productive. Got me out on a nice day. And I got to see you, so it's all good." He tensed a tiny bit at that last statement, but amazingly enough, he still felt no intent, nothing of entrapment in her tone. Just a sense that she was glad to see him. It was refreshing.
> 
> She looked at her watch and pulled a face at the time. "Ah jeez, I didn't mean to take up so much of your time. Not that it isn't appreciated – you're a good listener. Nice skill to have." Cassidy made a point of looking at Dief, and spoke clearly. "And you're fine company as well, Diefenbaker."
> 
> She started gathering her things, and Fraser was surprised to find himself disappointed that their time together was ending so quickly. He thought about that a moment. It wasn’t that he was attracted to the young woman; his heart was already taken, even if its new owner had no idea he held the rights to it. So why would her leaving bother him?
> 
> He realized she had gotten out her wallet while he was distracted, and as he reached into the inner band of his Stetson to find money of his own, she waved him off. “My treat. Kept you in, kept Dief from the walk I’m sure you were about to have, and you had to listen to me jabber.” He started to protest, but she silenced him with a sharp look.
> 
> “I mean it, Constable. Besides, it’s just tea. Even a starving artist can afford that.” Her teasing smile reassured him that she was indeed able to pay, and he acquiesced.
> 
> “Thank you kindly.” He paused, then decided to go on. “And it’s Benton,” he said, trying to keep any shyness from his tone. “I’m not on duty, after all.”
> 
> “Aren’t you? I get the feeling you’re never entirely off duty.” She had sharp eyes indeed. “But thank you, Benton. And my friends call me Cass.”
> 
> Friends. That’s what it was, this feeling. Friendship, pure and simple. Rare and utterly refreshing to find. He’d so few friends, especially here. He knew people cared about him – Ray (both Kowalski and Vecchio), Leftenant Welsh and the people at the 27th… but it was more detached, more of a professional caring. Well, not in either of the Rays case, and Francesca certainly was a different story… but still. Here was a perfectly nice young woman who wanted to be his friend. And nothing more.
> 
> He realized he’d been quiet too long. “Cass it is, then. Thank you kindly.”
> 
> A reproachful bark changed his attention, and he turned to address Dief.
> 
> “Yes, I know. You have been most patient, and with no ill-gotten gains. How disappointing for you.”
> 
> “Ill-gotten gains?” Her tone was amused.
> 
> Fraser gave a put upon sigh. “He was hoping one of us would order him something sweet, I’m afraid. His time in Chicago has convinced him that baked goods are his true natural prey.” The pointed look he aimed at Dief was willfully ignored.
> 
> Cassidy laughed, then petted Dief to get his attention. “Sorry, didn’t mean to ruin your plan. Let me in on it next time, huh?” A happy bark and tail wag was his response. “Okay, then. Glad we’re good.”
> 
> “We were indeed off to the park. Diefenbaker has been more than lax in his exercise regimen as of late.” He hesitated a moment, then continued. “You’d be welcome to join us, if you’d like.”
> 
> Cass cocked head and gave him an appraising look. “I’d like that. Thanks for the invite. Who knows,” she went on, “maybe I’ll be inspired.”

“You see,” Ray said, pointing a finger at Fraser, “I was right.”

“About what, Ray?”

Ray stared at him in disbelief. “Come on, she was totally flirting with you! What do you think she was hoping to be inspired by?”

“Many creative types have found nature exceedingly inspiring.” Fraser hesitated. “Ray, why are you so sure Cassidy was looking at me as a romantic interest, when I’ve told you we’re only friends?”

Ray didn’t have a quick answer to that, mostly because his first answer – “Everybody who sees you has a romantic interest” really said more than he wanted it to. And listing the specific reasons why she might feel that way would be even worse. So he sputtered for a few seconds, then gave in. “Okay, you win. I’ll stop seeing her as anything but your friend.”

“Since that’s what she is, I think that’s a wise decision. As I was saying, from there we walked to the park…”

> They spent the walk in light conversation, sharing fairly superficial stories, entertaining each other. Fraser felt almost giddy; it was such a nice change to just be himself, without worry of negative repercussion.
> 
> Oddly enough, he got the same kind of feeling from Cassidy. She’d been almost wary as they first left the diner, but as they talked he could see her relax. He wondered if she’d been as concerned about his intentions as he had been about hers.
> 
> As they got close, Dief bounded ahead, happy to be somewhere he could really run, despite Fraser’s admonitions about his lack of desire to exercise. Fraser started to pick up the pace, then realized he was leaving Cassidy behind. He looked back and slowed, but she waved him off with a grin.
> 
> “Go on, you look like you need this as much as he does. Being outdoors, I mean.” She motioned to a nearby bench. “I’m gonna park here and soak in some sun, and give it a try.” She was already reaching into her bag as she spoke, pulling out sketch pad and pencils.
> 
> Fraser nodded and followed after Diefenbaker, hoping to catch up with him before he was able to beg, or worse, steal anything from the various food vendors stationed throughout the park. As it turns out, he needn’t have worried. Dief had been remarkably well behaved – he really must have wanted the run, as he didn’t even try to bother any of the vendors for free treats.
> 
> The two of them, having gone quite a fair distance, made their way back toward Cassidy at a leisurely pace, and Benton was glad to see that she was still there, and apparently hadn’t even noticed their absence too much – she had moved from the bench to under a nearby tree, and was deep in concentration as her pencil moved in sure strokes over the paper.
> 
> She glanced up as they approached, a happy look on her face.
> 
> “I take it you were successful?”
> 
> “I don’t know if I’m all the way back, but at least now I can see the way there. This was definitely a good idea, Benton. Thank you for inviting me along.”
> 
> “You’re quite welcome, though I don’t know that I actually did anything to help, really.”
> 
> “I might not have thought to come here. You did, so you get the credit.”
> 
> “Ah, then I suppose I should be glad that you feel better, or else I might have felt guilty.” His tone was deadpan, but a twinkle shone in his eye.
> 
> She laughed. “Oh no, the blame would have been on me, not you – I don’t work that way.” He smiled back at her, pleased to see she’d realized right away that he was joking.
> 
> “Might I see what it is you were working on?”
> 
> “You might, you may, you can, and you will.” She grinned and started to get up, but he waved her off and sat down beside her, Dief flopping down happily in the shade.
> 
> Cassidy turned slightly to better be able to show him her sketches, flipping back pages as she did.
> 
> They were rough sketches, some almost just vague impressions of people, of movement. Bits of trees, plants, sky – barely there but enough to give the feel of outdoors, of open space rather than oppressive buildings. On the last page, one of Dief, running. Of him, chasing. His happiness quietly evident, and there was a feeling of calm, despite the movement of the piece. It should have felt wrong, that contrast, but somehow… well it was him, wasn’t it.
> 
> He could feel her eyes on him. “I would say that you are indeed on track again. These are very good.”
> 
> She blushed a bit, a small smile lighting her face. “Thanks. Nice to have an honest opinion.” She nodded her head toward the page. “I like that one best, I think.”
> 
> “You’ve certainly captured Diefenbaker’s natural exuberance nicely. The only way it would be more obviously him is if he were chasing a donut.”
> 
> That got a huff from Dief, and a chuckle from Cass.
> 
> “I’ll remember that next time I get the chance to sketch him.” She ruffled Dief’s fur. “What do you think, Dief? _Portrait of a Wolf by the Krispy Kreme_ gonna be my masterpiece?”
> 
> “You’d never get him to sit still long enough. Unless he’d actually eaten his fill, but that’s an image no one would want to see.”

Fraser put a hand on Ray’s arm and gently drew him toward the park drawings Ray had passed earlier. “That’s what she drew that day in the park.”

“Yeah, I thought the dog looked familiar.” He looked closer, and could see that the figure in the distance was Fraser. “And yeah, that’s you, I see it now that I know it. If that makes any sense.”

“It does.” He paused. “I must admit, I find it a bit disconcerting to find myself on display, as it were. I knew about the drawings, of course, but never expected to see them like this.”

Uh oh. If these were bothering Fraser, then the portrait was really gonna be a shocker. Ray sighed, and decided to bite the bullet. Better he show Fraser than some stranger come up to him.

Fraser’s look became concerned at Ray’s sigh. “What’s the matter, Ray?”

“Not sure anything’s the matter, but if these are bothering you, there’s something else you should probably see. C’mon.”

Fraser followed, a puzzled look on his face. Ray made sure he was right in front of his friend, blocking his view, and turned to look him in the eye when they got close.

“Now it isn’t anything bad, so don’t go thinking that. But there’s one more picture of you here, and I figured you’d want to know.” And Ray stepped out of the way, moved off to the side both to give Fraser a better view and to give him a bit of privacy. He had no idea what Fraser had been thinking about when that had been drawn, but knew his partner well enough to realize it wasn’t something he’d want to share with the general population.

Fraser’s eyes followed Ray as he moved, then went to the drawing, and widened.

“Oh. Dear.” Yeah, he’d been right – it was a shock. Ray decided the best thing was to play it off, pretend it wasn’t as revealing as it was.

“Hey, it’s a real good drawing, Fraser. Looks like you and everything, so nothing to worry about there. I just figured if you didn’t feel right in the ones where you were part of the scenery…”

Fraser didn’t say anything for a minute, didn’t even acknowledge that he’d heard Ray speak. He seemed to be as lost in the portrait as Ray had been when he first saw it. When he did finally turn toward Ray, his face was shuttered, Polite Mountie Mask firmly in place. Damn.

“You’re right of course, Ray. The technique is quite good, and Cassidy certainly does have a flair for capturing a moment.” He paused, and the Mask slipped, just a little. “Thank you for pointing it out, Ray. It would have been more than, well, quite a surprise.”

“Hey, no problem, Fraser. That’s what buddies are for, right?”

“Yes. Buddies.” And Ray saw Fraser relax a tiny bit more. Still, though, there was something behind his eyes that Ray wished he understood, wished he could fix.

Ray was sure he felt eyes on them, and glanced over to see Cassidy watching them unhappily. So she saw Fraser didn’t like the drawing, felt bad about putting it up maybe. Good. She should.

Ray was pretty sure that they were done there, whether they’d seen everything or not, so he slung one arm over his friend’s shoulder and turned him toward the door.

“Don’t know about you, but I am all cultured out for the night. What say we head back to my place, see if the game’s still on.” He pretended not to notice the way Fraser had tensed when he’d touched him.

“All right, Ray. I think I’ve seen enough as well.”

Fraser was quiet as they walked to the car; even more so on the drive to his place, but Ray let him be. Much as he wanted to know what was going on in his friend’s head, he knew him well enough not to push. Not yet, anyhow.

*********************

Fraser turned toward the passenger window, but the buildings went by unseen. He’d been more than surprised to see the portrait, and was sure Ray realized that, but was being uncharacteristically silent. Fraser didn’t know whether to be grateful for that or not. A quiet Ray was a thinking Ray, and he didn’t want Ray to put the pieces of this particular puzzle together. He knew he should at least try to initiate some conversation, but his thoughts kept going back to the time Cassidy had drawn him...

> It had been several months since that day at the park. Given their schedules, he hadn’t seen Cassidy much, but the few times they had been able to meet had been very enjoyable. A movie, a visit to the Art Institute that had been quite enlightening and surprisingly humorous, and today, a trip to a different park, this one a bit farther from the Consulate. Fraser wasn’t allowing Diefenbaker back to their usual park until he promised to make more of an effort not to beg from the vendors. His last visit had been both disgraceful and quite a mess to clean up later.
> 
> The air had just enough of a chill in it to make the air crisp, the colors seem more vibrant; autumn was well on its way. He had run with Dief for a bit before settling across from Cassidy, who had chosen a semi-shaded spot beneath some trees as a workspace. He split his attention between watching the half-wolf chase leaves and his friend working on a detailed sketch of a rock. It seemed an odd subject, and Fraser said as much.
> 
> “Yeah, just keeping my fingers busy. Not really in the mood today, I guess.” She frowned down at the page, then turned to the next and seemed no happier with its blankness than she had been with the one she’d filled.
> 
> She had seemed less than her exuberant self when they’d matched up, but he hadn’t felt it right to comment at the time. Now that she’d said something the topic was, as Ray would say, ‘fair game’.
> 
> “Is everything all right, Cassidy? Are classes not going well?”
> 
> She smiled, but there was no heart to it. “Classes are fine, Benton, thanks.” She leaned back against the nearest tree and twiddled the pencil in her fingers, watching it twirl for awhile before going on.
> 
> “It’s just... I’ve been seeing somebody, and it didn’t work out, so I guess I’m just a little bummed at the whole thing.”
> 
> “Ah.” Well, he had asked. “I’m not the most experienced when it comes to relationships. I’m afraid I’ve no real insight to give.”
> 
> She smiled again, still sad, but not as much. “Thanks anyway. And it’s my own fault, at least partly. I know better than to get so invested so early.” She sighed deeply and started making random pencil marks in her notebook. “It just seemed like she and I were on the same page.”
> 
> The she was no surprise – Cassidy had been quite open about her orientation, moreso than he had. She’d never pried, though, and while he’d never been forthcoming about his own preferences, he’d never actually lied to her.
> 
> “Well, at the risk of using a cliché, there are more fish in the sea. You’ve plenty of time to find someone, if that’s what you want.”
> 
> She made a face. “At this point, it most definitely is **not** , which I know is the break-up talking. But your sentiment is most appreciated.”
> 
> The two sat in silence then for a bit. Benton made a point of watching Diefenbaker, to give his friend some privacy but still stay close by in case she wanted to talk. He couldn’t help but think about the easy way the fact of Cassidy’s sexuality fell from her lips; he envied that. Was it a product of being brought up in a place as varied as Chicago? An age difference? In any case, he wished he could be as easy and open about it as she was.
> 
> Of course, it was one thing to be open about something; quite another to act upon it. And that was the crux of it, wasn’t it. He’d never really wanted to act on his feelings before. Not until now. Not until Ray. But the thought worried him, the chance that he could lose the close friendship, the smooth partnership they’d fought for. There were moments, times he’d see Ray watching him, or Ray would say something that could have more than the obvious surface meaning... but he couldn’t be sure if that was real, or his own feelings coloring his perceptions. And despite seeming evidence to the contrary, Benton Fraser was not always willing to take a risk.
> 
> His thoughts occupied, he didn’t really note the passage of time until Dief bounded over and lay beside him, tired but content. Though he could be better, he made sure to point out, were a treat for good behavior involved.
> 
> Fraser ruffled the wolf’s fur. “Perhaps when we get back to the Consulate. If you can keep up said behavior until then, of course.”
> 
> He looked over at Cassidy, who glanced up from her notebook when she felt his gaze on her. “I’m sorry I’ve been such poor company today. I’m afraid I was woolgathering.”
> 
> “It’s okay, Benton – I wasn’t the best person to be around today either.” He noticed that the page in her notebook was no longer blank, and gestured toward it. “May I?”
> 
> “Sure. Only fair, since it’s you.” She handed over the notebook, and indeed he was the subject. It was very rough, the eyes holding a hint of emotion he hadn’t realized he’d been showing. For someone who hadn’t been in the mood to draw, she’d done an admirable job.

The car stopped, and Ray shut off the engine, bringing Fraser out of his reverie. He had no idea what to say to Ray, and wondered how short he could make this visit without offending his friend.

*********************

Fraser was silent the whole trip back to Ray’s apartment. Ray wished he knew what it was about that picture that had him so freaked. And that’s what this was – a freak-out, Benton Fraser style. The quiet was starting to make Ray twitchy, so much so that he nearly jumped out of the car once it was parked. He made himself wait for Fraser to get out, then walked beside him into the building.

Ray hung up his jacket, then sidetracked to the kitchen and checked the fridge for signs of food. Looked like it was delivery time again. He got out a couple of menus and went in to join Fraser. He’d expected to find him sitting on the couch, maybe even have the TV on already, looking for a game. Not that he thought Fraser really wanted to watch anything; just that it would give him reasonable cover to not have to talk about whatever it was that was bugging him.

Instead, he was looking out the window, jacket still on, hat in his hands. He looked lost.

“Hey, Fraser, if you don’t wanna watch anything, that’s okay, you know. I can even take you back to the Consulate if you want.” Please don’t take the offer, he thought. Stay. Tell me what’s going on in that head of yours.

“That’s kind of you, Ray. I think perhaps that would be best, though I can walk if you’re wanting to be in for the night.”

“I offered, that means I don’t mind. You’re the polite one, remember?” Ray tried to smile, to ease the tension, but it fell flat. He could see it in the tight lines around Fraser’s eyes, feel it on his own face.

Still, Fraser rallied, no surprise. “All right then, Ray. I would appreciate the ride.” Ray seriously doubted that, as it meant more time alone together, more chances for Ray to find out what was bugging him, but Fraser was wrong. This time, he wouldn’t push; he didn’t have it in him.

He shrugged his jacket back on and grabbed his keys as Fraser walked to the door. This night certainly hadn’t gone like he’d hoped.

*********************

The next few days were busy, too much so for Fraser to let thoughts of that night distract him. Fraser opened the door to the Consulate late one afternoon, letting Dief in before him, and was walking toward his office when Inspector Thatcher’s voice stopped him.

"Constable. You have mail." Her voice held both disbelief that he would be worthy of such a thing, and undeniable curiosity. He took the box from her, searching its exterior for clues. No return address, local postmark. Lightweight… it seemed harmless enough. Still, it wouldn't do to be careless.

"Sir, perhaps I should open this alone. In case it proves to be… unsafe."

Her look of scorn made her feelings plain.

"It's your mail, Constable. Where you open it is none of my concern." She replied, walking back to her office in a way Ray would no doubt describe as "pissy."

He went to his office, shut the door, sat down and carefully opened the box. He reached in past the styrofoam peanuts and pulled out a thin rectangle, carefully wrapped in plain paper. Inside it he found a drawing. **The** drawing.

He laid the frame carefully on his desk, and started to reach back in to check the box for a note. Though it was obvious who had sent it, why she'd sent it was a mystery.

“Nice bit of work there, son.” He nearly jumped at his father’s voice, just over his shoulder. Of course he’d show up now. Fraser Senior continued, oblivious to his son’s discomfort as always. “Good likeness.” He leaned in and pointed over Benton’s shoulder. ”Bit moony-eyed though.”

“I don’t know what to say to that, Dad.” He didn’t try to hide the sarcasm, but as usual, it seemed to go right over his father’s head. Or maybe _through_ it, considering his state of being.

“Nothing _to_ say, son. Just acknowledge it and get on with your life.” He moved back a few steps and scanned the room, turning slowly. “Hmmm. Not a lot of wall space here. Then again, this might not be the place to hang it – don’t want to look too full of yourself, after all.”

Fraser pointedly ignored his father and set the box aside, deciding to delay his search for a note until he was alone. He turned to see his father watching him, and tensed, irritated.

“Is there something I can do for you, Dad?”

“No no no, I’m fine. Good of you to ask, though.”

He looked back down at his desk and started organizing some papers, hoping that appearing busy would be enough for his father to get the hint. But apparently being dead meant not having to pay attention to little things like body language or work schedules or etiquette. Or maybe that was just his father.

“She obviously likes you, knows you. You like her, or she wouldn’t have gotten to see you like that.” No doubt who his father was talking about. Fraser waited for the inevitable next bit. “Too bad she’s not a bit older, though there’s nothing wrong with a May-December marriage.”

And there it was. “I do like her, Dad, but not as anything but a friend. Not that that’s any of your business,” he couldn’t resist adding.

“Of course it’s my business – you’re my son. I just don’t want you to end up alone, that’s all. And you’re not getting any younger.”

Fraser sighed and tried to keep his voice even. “Thank you for the concern, Dad. But please, believe me when I say it wouldn’t work, if for no other reason than I’m not her type.”

“Nonsense,” he snorted, seemingly unable to believe any son of his wouldn’t be a girl’s first choice. “You’re tall, fit, good-looking, hard-working - what more could she want?”

He decided to just say it. “I’m not a woman.”

“Well no, that’s her job, isn’t it?”

“It’s also her preference in a partner. So unless you think she’s so perfect for me that I should try gender reassignment –“

“Good lord, no. Seeing you as a woman for a case was bad enough.” He shuddered, and Benton had to fight off a smile; it wasn’t right, but a part of him lived for those times he could bait his father. “No offense, son, but you just don’t make a good woman.”

“None taken, Dad. Now if you’ll excuse me, I do have work to do here.”

“Yes yes, right, do your duty,” he replied distractedly. Fraser Senior got to the closet door, and Benton thought he was safe, but at the last second his father turned back. “Nothing to be done about it, I suppose. Still, she seemed a good second choice.”

He tried not to respond, but couldn’t resist. “Second choice to who, Dad?”

“Why, to your Yank, of course. Lot alike those two. Thought that’s why you were spending time with her – trying to find a substitute for him.” And before Fraser could even try to form a reply, his father went through the closet door, not even pretending to open it first.

He sat there for a long moment and just stared at the door. His father thought – which meant his father knew how he felt. He rubbed his eyebrow, and picked up the frame to look at the drawing once again. His father knew, but didn’t sound too upset over it. That was surprising. But if his father had figured it out, what did Ray know?

He pushed that distressing thought away and picked up the box. Reaching around inside, he felt an envelope, and pulled it out. He opened it and found a short note in surprisingly neat handwriting.

 _Benton,_

 _I thought you should have this, and I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about it being part of my show before putting it on display. I saw your reaction to it and I feel just awful to have made you feel so uncomfortable. I took it down that night, as soon as the opening was done. I got a lot of good feedback about it, but it wasn’t worth hurting a friend, which I hope we still are._

 _So sorry,  
Cass_

He put down the note and picked up the portrait. It really was well done, and she had every right to have it in her show, but part of him was glad to know it wasn’t on display any more. At the same time, he didn’t think it should just be boxed back up and hidden away. Not for the first time Fraser was sorry he had nothing more than his office to call home, for it wouldn't do to hang this here. Perhaps Ray would… foolish thought. Why would Ray want a drawing of him, no matter how good it was?

Fraser carefully re-wrapped the picture and put it back into the box for safe-keeping. Perhaps he should give it back. It was her work, after all. And very few people would know who he was, and even less had a chance at figuring out why he’d looked so... how had his father put it? Moony-eyed.

*********************

Ray couldn’t believe he was doing this. He nearly turned around, then stopped, took a deep breath, and went through the gallery door. There wasn’t much of a crowd, which was good and bad; no witnesses to his foolish behavior, but nowhere to hide either. He drifted a bit, years of experience making it child’s play to disguise his target. Some new pieces had been added, by different artists, but the person whose stuff he wanted to see was still up.

He casually made his way around, again impressed by her skill, then turned the corner and stopped. It was gone. The picture of Ben was gone. He looked around quickly, making sure he was in the right spot, which he was. But no picture. Why would it be gone? Could somebody have bought it? He’d seen some price tags on a few of the pieces, but couldn’t remember if it had had one or not.

Ray slumped his shoulders and wandered over to the other drawings with Fraser in them. He still wasn’t sure exactly what he was doing here. Would he have bought it? Or just studied it and tried to figure out just what had been going on in his friend’s mind?

Part of him wanted to talk to Fraser about it, but he hadn’t seen much of him these past few days, and when he had, Fraser had been either all business or super quiet, not even a weird anecdote spilling out at just the wrong time. Not that he’d had any time to come up with what he wanted to say. This was the first real free time he’d had since that night. And here he was, and he couldn’t help but think about it now.

It was making Ray crazy. Had Fraser picked up on his jealousy of Cassidy? He knew he hadn’t done such a good job of hiding it, but sometimes Fraser was totally oblivious to that kind of stuff, and Ray had hoped this was one of those times. Ray had tried so hard to keep the friendship just that, no farther; had he blown it the other night?

And even if that wasn’t it, even if Cassidy was just a good friend, he still wanted to know what that picture had been about. Because there was something Ben was wanting, and whatever it was, he’d hidden that fact from Ray completely. Why would he do that? Unless it had something to do with Ray, like maybe he was thinking the same kinds of things Ray had, and thought it was just as impossible. Ray shook his head in disgust – yeah, he wants me, _that’s_ real likely.

Anyhow, it didn’t matter now; the picture was gone, and he should be too.

Ray turned to go, but an all-too familiar flash of red by the door stopped him in his tracks. Of course Fraser was here, today, at the same time as Ray.

He thought about hiding, sneaking out, but what was the point? And maybe, just maybe, he’d actually get some of the answers he wanted after all. Deciding that ‘offense is the best defense’, he walked over to his friend, a smile he hoped looked sincere plastered on his face.

“Fraser, hey! Ice Queen let you off early today?” He gestured to the box Fraser held carefully. “Or has she got you running her errands again?” His tone made no bones about his feelings on that particular subject.

“Actually, Ray, this errand is one of my own. I’m returning an item that was mistakenly sent to me.”

That was interesting. “Yeah? What’d you get?” He knew what it had to be, but would Fraser tell him?

“Nothing important, Ray. I just need to find the manager.” He looked around as he spoke, and Ray wondered if it was so he wouldn’t be lying to Ray’s face. Then Fraser looked right at him, and Ray knew it was his turn on defense. “Why are you here, if I may ask?”

Yep, right on schedule. “I was in the neighborhood, thought I’d look around some more. It was kind of crowded here the other night; didn’t get a chance to look at everything.”

The look on Fraser’s face was disbelieving; his tone matched it. “I didn’t realize you were such an art aficionado.”

Ray shrugged noncommittally, refusing to take the bait. “Like I said, I know what I like. And your friend’s stuff is good, so I wanted to see the rest of it. That a crime?” C’mon, Fraser, Ray thought, call me on this. And it looked like he was going to, but then the Mask slipped back on.

“Of course not, Ray. It just doesn’t seem like a place I’d usually find you, that’s all.”

Okay, nice sidestep. Time to try another move. “That’s not so bad a thing. We may be a duet, but that doesn’t mean we can’t still surprise each other. I’m sure there’s stuff neither of us knows about the other.” There, that was pretty much it. But it was Fraser’s turn to ignore a challenge.

“I’m sure you’re right. Ah, there’s the manager. If you’ll excuse me.”

Ray put a gentle hand on Fraser’s arm to stop him. He stopped, but didn’t turn, just looked down at the package in his hands as Ray spoke.

“It’s the picture, isn’t it? The one of you that bothered you the other night.” Ray watched Fraser closely; he was tired of dancing around this. He hoped Fraser would finally let him in. He nodded toward the wall where the portrait had hung. “It’s gone. And I wasn’t the only one who saw your reaction that night. Your friend saw it, too.”

Fraser looked up at that, startled. “Yeah, I saw her watching us,” Ray went on, “saw that your reaction bothered her. I figure maybe she sent it to you to make up for it.”

Fraser’s voice was hoarse as he started to answer; he cleared his throat to continue. “That’s – that’s very astute of you, Ray.”

Ray smiled, kindness in his eyes. “Yeah, kind of hard to turn off the job skills.” He squeezed Fraser’s arm, then dropped his hand. “So I get why she took it down. Why are you returning it?”

Fraser looked down again, running his hands over the box as he spoke. “It isn’t right for me to keep it. I knew Cassidy had drawn me, and obviously I knew the show was coming up. If she felt it good enough to be here, then that’s the important thing.” Fraser turned to look at Ray, questioning. “Why are you here, Ray?”

“I’m not sure,” he sighed deeply. “And that’s the hundred percent truth.” He held Fraser’s gaze until he saw belief. “I wanted to see that,” he went on, gesturing to the box, “but I can’t tell you why, exactly. I was trying to figure that out when I saw you come in. All I know is you haven’t been the same since the night we were here, and I was trying to figure out why.”

He looked away, then went on, his voice barely audible. “And maybe figure out how someone I’d never really heard about until a few days ago seems to know you better than I do.” The silence became uncomfortable quickly; it didn’t take long for Ray to need to break it.

“Listen, why don’t we get out of here, go somewhere we can really talk. That okay with you?”

He waited, breath held, until Fraser finally nodded. “All right, Ray.” He looked at the package in his hands. “I can always return this later, I suppose.”

“Okay then. Good. Good. The Goat’s just a couple of blocks away – it’s murder finding parking around here this time of day.” He started walking toward the door, energized now that there was a plan. “C’mon. We can stop by the Consulate and get Dief on the way if you want.” He hesitated. “Or not. Your choice. And I was thinking my place, since it’s private and all, but we don’t have to go there.”

“Your apartment is fine, Ray. And Diefenbaker will be all right at the Consulate.” He hesitated, then went on. “Though I believe Turnbull was planning on trying out a new recipe after his shift ended.”

Ray shuddered. “Ouch. Glad you don’t have to be there for that. You sure we don’t need to go rescue the mutt?”

“He knows perfectly well the consequences of Turnbull’s cooking. If he chooses to partake, it’s his own fault.”

“Yeah, and your mess to clean up.” This was good, this felt better than it had in days, like their connection was back, at least partway. The ride to Ray’s apartment was mostly quiet, but this silence was nowhere near as uncomfortable as it had been.

Still, he was picking up on a strange vibe from Fraser. If he didn’t know better, he’d say it was fear, but why would he be afraid of Ray? The closer they got to his place, the more sure Ray was that they really needed to talk, and that Fraser really didn’t want to. Ray was going to have to take the lead on this one, and hope his instincts were trustworthy today of all days.

*********************

Fraser carried the box with him to Ray’s apartment. He was sure it would have been safe in the car, but if it was important enough to Ray that he went to the gallery to see it, then it needed to be brought in.

Seeing Ray there had been quite a shock. His thought had been to just drop the package off with the manager, perhaps add a brief note thanking Cassidy for the gesture of sending it to him. Now he wasn’t sure what he was going to do, and that was a feeling that he didn’t like at all.

Now that they were entering Ray’s building, Fraser felt even more unsure. He knew things had been strained between them, perhaps for even longer than he’d originally thought. And he hadn’t deliberately kept his friendship with Cassidy from Ray, at least not consciously. Why then _hadn’t_ he told Ray? It wasn’t like he wasn’t allowed to have other friends. His father’s words echoed in his mind: _Thought that’s why you were spending time with her – trying to find a substitute for him._

That was it, wasn’t it? If his father thought that, Ray might as well, and no matter how he took it, Fraser was sure it wouldn’t be the right way. He wasn’t even sure there was a right way. _He_ didn’t see Cassidy as a substitute, though they did have some similarities. But would Ray understand that? Was there a way to explain it that wouldn’t have him admitting to his partner just how deep his feelings ran?

He had to try. The plaintive sound of Ray’s voice when he spoke of Cassidy had cut Fraser to the quick. They entered Ray’s apartment, and as Ray took off his jacket, holster and gun, Fraser went to the table, placing the box and his hat on it before going to sit on the couch.

Ray headed into the kitchen, talking as he went. “You want anything, Fraser? Water, tea, beer?”

He started to politely refuse, but a sudden dryness in his throat made him rethink. “A glass of water would be fine, Ray, thank you kindly.” He tried to smile as Ray handed him the glass, but was sure it looked more like a grimace. He thought Ray would sit down, but he passed toward the table, putting down his glass to pick up the box. He stood there, not speaking, just turning it over in his hands.

"You can take it out, if you'd like," Fraser was amazed his voice sounded so calm.

Ray gave him a long look, searching for something, then nodded and opened the box. He unwrapped the picture carefully, and ran one hand over it as he looked at it just as intently.

Fraser just watched Ray, let him look as long as he wanted without interruption. When he finally looked up again, his eyes were sad.

"It really is a great drawing. She really got you down."

He nodded. "Cassidy is very talented."

Ray shrugged. "Yeah, but talent'll only take you so far. Can't do something like this unless you know the person."

"She and I are friends, Ray."

"Good friends?" He said this off-handedly, but Fraser recognized the tone; he’d been witness to enough interrogations to know Ray’s interest was anything but casual.

"Fairly good, I suppose. I have to say, this surprised me as well."

"Can I ask-" Ray stopped himself. Fraser waited, but it seemed like Ray was stuck.

"Ask what?" he prompted gently.

Ray carefully laid the portrait on the table and rubbed a hand over his face tiredly.

"I don't know. I got a lot of questions, but I don't know how to ask any of them. Don't know that I even should."

"You can ask me anything, Ray. I hope you know that."

"I thought I did. This just threw me, and the hell of it is, I'm not even sure why. I mean, it's not like you can't have friends. Not like we have to know all the same people or anything. I **know** that."

"Ray." He stopped, then took a deep breath and stood. "I've been thinking a lot these past few days. About this, and Cassidy, and why I never told you about spending time with her."

Ray leaned one hip against the table, crossed his arms and waited, still and focused.

"I've come to realize that while it was in no way a conscious decision, I didn't tell you about her for a reason." He hesitated, trying to find the right words. That Ray waited without comment spoke volumes to him about the importance of this conversation.

“The circumstances of Cassidy and I meeting were in no way planned, as you know. Nor were the events leading to our friendship. So it isn’t that I was looking for someone to befriend.”

Ray nodded. “I get that. And like I said, it wouldn’t matter. You’re allowed to have friends.”

“True. I just wanted to make that clear.” He rubbed his eyebrow as he went on. “Because I do see that there could be some misconceptions. And while I do find her to be a good friend, she isn’t any kind of substitute. I can how someone might think that, especially considering the physical similarities you share. I hadn’t thought about that at all, actually, until it was pointed out to me. Well, obviously I knew you two shared some characteristics, but it isn’t why I spent time with her.”

He stopped as he realized that Ray was looking at him as if he were babbling, which was fair, since he was. “Well, in any case, I just didn’t want you thinking the wrong thing.”

Ray nodded like he understood. “Yeah, sure I get that.” Then he shook his head. “No. No, I don’t. What would the wrong idea be here, Fraser?”

“As I said, that I saw Cassidy as some sort of substitute for you.”

“Which she isn’t.”

“Right.”

Ray nodded in that talking-while-I’m-thinking way he had when working on instinct. Oh dear. “But I might think she was because she looks and acts like me.”

“There are a few similarities,” Fraser hedged.

“But they’re just coincidental.” Ray straightened and took a step away from the table.

“Exactly.” Which was entirely true. Just not the entire truth. Fraser had used this particular deflection technique with great success many times; he hoped it would work again.

Ray, however, seemed to be picking up speed now, gaining confidence. It was obvious in both his tone and his body language. “Only I know we’re good. So I have to wonder what kind of substituting I’m supposed to think she might be doing.”

There was nothing to say to that, really. At least, nothing safe. And as Ray moved closer, Fraser started to feel hemmed in, both physically and mentally. He’d let himself become ensnared by Ray in full interrogation mode, and it took an effort not to back away.

Ray stopped a few feet from Fraser, head cocked to one side as he watched Fraser’s face, waiting for some kind of response.

Fraser broke first, couldn’t help himself. “She isn’t substituting for anything, Ray. I’ve said that.”

“Yeah, but you were worried enough to not tell me. And you’re not doing any real talking now – just that restating thing you do to deflect.” He looked deep into Fraser’s eyes, and whatever he saw there must have answered some unspoken question. He turned suddenly and moved back to the table, picking up the picture again, holding it so both could see it.

“What were you thinking about when she drew this? ‘Cause I have my suspicions, but I need to hear it from you. I don’t want to be putting words in your mouth here, Fraser. All I can say is, whatever it is, you can tell me, straight out. No Inuit stories, no deflecting, no redirecting. I _need_ to know.”

Fraser stared at Ray, then the drawing, for a long moment before answering, his voice husky and quiet. ‘You, Ray. I was thinking about you.”

“Well, you shouldn’t be looking like that when you think about me,” Ray responded decisively. Then he shrugged and a small, embarrassed smile crossed his features. “Then again, I know I’ve been looking like that when I think about you, so I’m not really one to talk, I guess.”

“You’ve been…”

“Yeah. And if you don’t _want_ to be thinking about me like that, if that kind of thinking _bothers_ you, that’s one thing. But if it’s **okay** with you, then you don’t need to be all, I don’t know, wistful like this shows. Because I’m not some far away thing you can’t get to, Fraser. I’m right here.”

Fraser smiled as the truth of Ray’s words sank in, and Ray grinned back. “So I guess that means we’re good.”

He went to Ray and took the picture, carefully placing it on the table then cautiously took Ray’s hands, which were trembling just the tiniest bit. Ray’s fortitude in making them face this, even though he was unsure, made Fraser’s heart turn over in his chest.

“We’re good, Ray,” he replied, putting everything he felt for Ray, everything he’d been trying to hide, into his words. And then, emboldened by Ray’s bravery, he leaned forward and pressed his mouth to Ray’s for the briefest moment; not so much a kiss as an acknowledgement. He pulled back to see Ray looking at him wide-eyed and flushed. He was trying to decide what to say when Ray leaned forward and repeated the kiss. It wasn’t as brief, and when they parted he was surprised to feel them both shaking with effect.

Ray squeezed Fraser’s hands tightly, then freed one so he could reach up and touch Fraser’s face, ghosting his fingers over Fraser’s lips. Fraser couldn’t help himself; his tongue flicked out to taste. Ray’s reaction was immediate. His hand moved to Fraser’s neck, pulling him in for another kiss, this one neither brief nor chaste. It was full of heat, and passion, and promise, and all the pent-up frustration that they’d both apparently been feeling.

Fraser pulled Ray to him, and the full-body contact sent a shudder through them both, enough to break the kiss, leaving them panting. Fraser brought his hands up to frame Ray’s face, holding him still, looking at him like he’d never seen him before. Which in a way was true; he’d never seen Ray like _this_ before. Never seen him flushed, lips swollen from kissing, looking as simultaneously stunned and aroused as Fraser felt himself. It was the most beautiful sight Fraser had ever seen.

Ray moved his hands stroking Fraser’s sides, then his back, through the Serge. Fraser kissed Ray again and let his hands do some roaming of their own, trailing down Ray’s spine, over his belt, tracing the back pockets of his jeans, then back up along the edge of the fabric, just skimming Ray’s skin.

He flicked out his tongue and Ray instantly responded, opening his mouth and letting Fraser in. The dynamic of the kiss changed in an instant. Ray’s hands tightened and he pulled Fraser flush against him, then moved him back just enough so he could slide his hands to Fraser’s chest, fumbling over fastenings.

The thought of that, of Ray trying to undress him, made this all real in a way Fraser couldn’t describe even to himself. He moved his hands over Ray’s, gently pulled them away, and ended the kiss.

Ray looked him in the eyes, arousal warring with regret. “Sorry, sorry, too fast, too much. I know that, it’s just, it seems like we’ve been dancing around this forever, you know?”

Fraser smiled, squeezed Ray’s hands, and kissed him, just a small kiss. “I know. And I don’t know that it’s too fast. It’s just – I think I’m having a little trouble believing this is really happening.”

Ray shook his head and grinned. “You have to be the only guy I know that thinks words speak louder than actions, Fraser.” He brought a hand up to cup Fraser’s cheek. “Whatever you need, Ben. It’s all good.”

Fraser’s eyes darkened, and he pulled a surprised but happy Ray to him for another deep kiss.

“Apparently,” he said when they pulled apart, voice husky, “I need for you to call me Fraser if we’re going to do any talking.”

Ray’s eyes twinkled as he responded. “I can do that.”

He turned and led Fraser to the couch, sitting close, but at the same time far enough apart that he could think about something other than picking up where they left off. Or at least he hoped he’d be able to think. Fraser settled in, his version of relaxed just slightly off. So maybe Ray wasn’t the only one having trouble.

“Okay, Fraser, here we are, ready to talk like civilized people.” Ray smiled, and made sure his voice held no sting. “What do you want to know?”

Fraser stared at the wall, obviously concentrating; Ray gave him all the time he needed. “I suppose the obvious question is, how long have you been attracted to me?”

“Long enough to realize it’s more than just attraction.” He leaned to nudge Fraser with his shoulder. “You know that, right? That I wouldn’t risk what we have over something that’s just physical?”

Fraser acknowledged that with a smile. “I do, Ray, but I have to admit it’s good to hear it. It’s the same for me too, I hope you realize. That I have feelings for you, I mean.”

“Yeah, I figured that out, finally. And I’m thinking you’ve maybe been going through the same crap I have, running out scenarios in your head that you figured would never happen.”

“Yes. It seemed easier somehow to believe I was seeing events as I wanted to, rather than as they were, imposing my hopes onto your actions.”

Ray nodded. “Makes sense. Logical and everything. But then, instinct wasn’t working for me this time, so why should logic work for you?”

Fraser smiled softly. “I’d say instinct worked very well for you today, Ray.”

Ray grinned and shrugged. “Well, yeah, but how long have I been ignoring it? Anyhow, point is, I’ve wanted you for a long time. And I never thought I’d get you, but that didn’t stop me hoping, and not just for a roll in the sack. I don’t want to lose the partnership.”

Fraser turned so that he was facing Ray, and Ray followed suit, the motion bringing them closer, bent knees touching where they rested on the couch. “Nor do I, Ray. And I don’t think we have to. In fact, it could make it better.”

Ray put a one arm on the back of the couch, his hand now close enough to touch Fraser. Very lightly, he began tracing the seam where shoulder met sleeve. “Just add to it, you mean.”

Fraser blinked, and when he looked into Ray’s eyes, Ray saw that even this small touch was having an effect. “Yes. Another dimension, if you will.”

He reached up to brush the back of his hand against Fraser’s cheek. “I will if you will, Ben.” Fraser closed his eyes and leaned into the touch, and Ray closed the space between them for a kiss.

They exchanged kisses for awhile, the earlier heat still there, but banked, giving them time to explore, to learn each other in this new way. It gave Ray hope – the lack of urgency meant they both thought this thing really had a chance. No need to rush if nobody was planning on going anywhere. He smiled at that thought and pulled back, happy to continue their conversation.

“So, you still want to give the picture back?”

“I should at least try, Ray. She wanted it in her show; my feelings shouldn’t take precedence.”

Ray cuffed him lightly. “And that sentence right there is something you have got to work on, Fraser. You’re allowed to have your feelings count. And to get what you want.”

“It isn’t easy for me to think like that. I’m used to-”

Ray pointed at Fraser as he interrupted. “To not admitting to anybody that you want _anything,_ that life the way it is isn’t _exactly_ what you think it’s supposed to be. And I get that, Ben, I do. It’s a great survival technique, but you need to do more than just survive – you need to let yourself live.” He sighed and went on. “Look, if you still want to give it back, that’s fine. But I want to go with you, see if there’s any chance it’s for sale.” Ray blushed as he continued. “This place could use some art.”

Fraser took Ray’s hand in his. “So we’ll go to the gallery together.”

Ray considered that for a second. “We could do it like that, yeah. Or you could call your friend and give it back in person. You do have her number, right? Or do we need to go into the station and track her down?”

“Ray! That’s a terrible abuse of your position.”

Ray’s grin was totally unrepentant. “Nah. That’s just using the tools at my disposal. Now you want to see me abuse my position…” He moved suddenly to pin Fraser beneath him on the couch. “I am all over that.”

*********************

It had taken a bit of phone tag, but Fraser had finally reached Cassidy, and asked that they meet. He’d suggested the park, hoping she’d see it as friendly territory, and she’d agreed, though he could hear her reticence. He and Ray had arrived early to give Dief a chance to run, as he thoroughly enjoyed the cooler air fall was bringing.

Ray looked at his watch. “Almost time, Ben. How about I run the mutt a little longer, give you two a chance to talk?”

Fraser nodded. “You will make sure to be here to meet her though, right?”

“Yeah, no worries on that front. I’ve got interior motives, remember?”

Fraser chuckled. “I think you mean ulterior, Ray.”

“You put your motives where you want, and I’ll put mine where I want,” Ray replied with a dismissive wave. Dief barked, and he turned to nod at the wolf. “You heard him; we gotta run. We’ll be back in a few.”

Fraser watched Ray follow after Dief, then settled in on a nearby bench, laying the box with the drawing next to him. He was people-watching when he noticed Cassidy walking toward him, obviously nervous. Standing, Fraser smiled and waved, hoping to put her at ease, and was pleased to see her smile in response.

“Hi, Benton. How’ve you been? I haven’t seen you since – well, in a while.”

The small talk felt somewhat strained, but he recognized her need to find safe footing. “Very well, thank you. Work at the Consulate has been somewhat interesting as of late. And my time with the 27th Precinct has been rewarding as always.” He paused. “And how have you been?”

“Fine, thanks. School’s keeping me busy, but that’s nothing new, y’know?” She looked around searchingly. “No Dief today?”

“Oh, he’s here. He wouldn’t let me hear the end of it if I came without him.” As if on cue, Dief loped up, mouth full of pretzel. Fraser shook his head, and Cassidy grinned and knelt down to scratch behind Dief’s ears.

“Hey, Dief. I hope you didn’t just take that – you know you got in big trouble last time.”

Ray answered as he walked up, now close enough to hear the conversation. “Nope, all legal.” He held out a bag. “Even got some for us poor two-legged types, still warm.”

“Thank you kindly, Ray.” Fraser said as he took a pretzel from the bag. “Cassidy, this is my partner Ray Vecchio. You met Ray at your opening, I believe. Ray, you remember Cassidy Wallace?”

“Sure I do. Nice to see you again,” Ray replied casually. He held out the bag to her. “You want one? There’s enough for three.”

“Thanks,” Cassidy replied. She studied Ray’s face as she reached in and pulled out a pretzel.

“I remember you now. I met you in front of the drawing of Benton…” her voice trailed off, and Fraser could tell she was uncomfortable at the mention of that night. She turned to him. “You know I really am sorry about that, right? I didn’t mean for it to bother you.”

“I do know, Cassidy, and while I appreciate it, you really don’t need to apologize.” He gestured to the box on the bench. “I’d like to return the drawing to you, for you to put back up if you like.”

She gave him a doubtful look. “Are you sure? I mean, I saw how you reacted that night.”

“But that wasn’t because of the drawing itself, more what I was afraid someone might see in it.” He glanced over at Ray, and the two smiled.

“Which turned out to be a good thing,” Ray interjected after a few seconds, turning his attention to Cassidy, “so actually maybe we should be thanking you for putting it up.”

Cassidy looked at the two of them and Fraser knew from her answering smile that she understood. And that knowledge seemed to shake that last bit of tension from her; Fraser was glad to see her finally relax.

“Okay, then thank you. I really do love it.”

Ray nodded in satisfaction. “You should. I have a question, though – was this one of the ones that was for sale?”

She shook her head. “No, it was display only.”

Ray shrugged. “Well, you change your mind about that, you let me know. I’ve got a space on my wall where it’d look real nice.”

Cassidy thought that over briefly. “In that case, I’m thinking the price could be dinner out some night, the three of us-” a woof made her grin and revise her statement, ”Four of us, sorry Dief.”

“Sounds good to me. But you pick the place and don’t sell yourself short.” Ray tossed the now empty bag into the trash can, bouncing in triumph when he nailed the shot. “Okay, now I need something to drink. You two want anything? There’s a stand back there with sodas, and maybe coffee or cocoa – I saw steam, so they have something hot.”

Cassidy shook her head. “Thanks for the offer, Ray, but I probably need to get going. Looks like I have a picture to put back up.”

“Okay. You remember what I said though – name the time and place and we’ll take you out right. Ben knows how to get in touch with me.” He winked at her, then held out a hand, which she shook. “Good to see you again.”

“You, too, Ray.” She grinned at Fraser as Ray walked off. “Your partner seems like a good guy.”

Fraser smiled back as he watched Ray walk off. “He is. And he’s right about us owing you our thanks. We should take you out whether or not you decide to give Ray the drawing.”

“As much as I like the idea of two handsome men buying me dinner, I’m betting I didn’t really have anything to do with you two getting together. You are together, right? I mean, you called him your partner.”

“He’s the detective with whom I liaise at the precinct. But yes, we’re now partners in a personal sense as well.”

Cassidy nodded. “You look happy, Benton. I’m glad to see it.” She reached over and picked up the box, turning it over in her hands. “You’re really sure about this? Not just being nice?”

“I’m really sure,” he replied. “Just make sure it doesn’t accidentally get sold. I’d never hear the end of it.”

Cassidy laughed. “I’ll make sure, don’t worry. Wouldn’t want to get you in hot water, not while you’re still in the honeymoon phase.” Fraser blushed slightly at that, and Cassidy’s laugh grew. She closed the space between them and got on tiptoes to kiss his cheek.

“I’ll call you soon, Benton. I think I’d like to get to know your guy better. And you know us starving artists – always up for a free meal!” She started off, waving as she went. “Tell Dief goodbye for me!”

Fraser waved back as she walked away, glad to see a bounce in her step that had been missing when she’d arrived. He heard the click of nails on pavement, and turned to see Dief return, Ray close behind and carrying two cups.

“Saw Cassidy take off,” Ray said as he handed one to Fraser. Fraser held it up and breathed in the aroma of hot cocoa. “You two got everything patched up?”

“I believe so. And she’s planning on taking you up on your dinner offer, if only to get to know you better.”

“Yeah? That works for me – means I to get to know her too. See what the chick version of me is really like.” He held up a hand to stop Fraser’s protest. “I know, I know, not a chick and not a substitute, sorry. I just get a kick out of you thinking I’d see her as some kind of girly Ray.”

“You just enjoy teasing me, is more accurate.” Fraser replied archly.

Ray’s grin was unrepentant. “Well, yeah, that too. Got a whole new angle to play – can you blame me?”

“I suppose not,” Fraser replied with a small sigh. He leaned in just a bit. “But I’d hoped you would find better ways to play than that.”

Ray tried to look shocked but his smile was too big for it to be believable. “If that’s what you’re thinking, what are we doing out here?” He started walking toward where they’d parked, gesturing for Fraser and Dief to follow. Fraser caught up quickly and Ray bumped his shoulder. “I got all kinds of angles I can think of, Ben. Hope you’re up for some recreational activity.”

Fraser just smiled as he and Ray got to the car. He’d been thinking the same thing.


End file.
